


Achilles Done Right

by tpena19



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Episode - Achilles Rewrite, Episode Related, Gen, old west au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-10
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-03-29 23:58:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3915526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tpena19/pseuds/tpena19
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>JD is leaving Four Corners. What will Ezra do about this, or will he do anything at all?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Choices

**Author's Note:**

> Warnings: Spoilers for Achilles (some dialog taken directly from the episode) 
> 
> Status: WIP 
> 
> The story started as part of a scene rewrite challenge for the mag7land community on livejournal. I have not seen the episode Achilles in a while (worked this off an online script), so forgive me the small inaccuracies found within, though some were made on purpose to better fit the story (such as Buck not knowing J.D. was leaving) or came from my personal head canon (such as all things concerning Maude herein).

The side of a thumb traced slowly back and forth across a slightly pouty bottom lip, the rest of the hand relaxed gently against the accompanying chin, fingers curled down around it. The other hand hovered in midair, frozen in the act of raising a nearly empty shot glass, forgotten for now. A half-full bottle of Scotch stood sentry on top of the bar in front of the leaning elbows. Pale, olive green eyes focused on nothing in particular, simply gazing off into the distance as a sharp mind found itself stuck in a rut.

_Mr. Dunne is planning on leaving Four Corners._

It seems the Easterner had packed his bags, checked out of his room, sold his horse, and had a seat saved for himself on the stage set to leave later that day. It was not a result Ezra had been anticipating; a long depressed sulk, an attempt to quit as sheriff, and even a refusal to arm himself properly, for all those outcomes the gambler had been prepared. But this? This he had not been expecting. He would not have allowed himself to relax his attention, or trusted solely in his companions’ abilities to reassure the boy, if he’d had any notion that such an occurrence was a possibility for the future. He really should have learned by now to not assume anything when it came to these contrary men he sometimes called his friends.

Perhaps that is why the thought seems to be affecting him to such a degree. It isn't like he has become attached to the boy, of course not, he’s just upset - no, annoyed, yes, annoyed - by being caught off his guard. Their young sheriff had always been prone to making errors of the sort that most Eastern greenhorns made due to his lack of experience in the environs, but he was a stubborn boy and had never before given up after a mistake. In fact, the young man’s perseverance and determination, along with his incessant cheerfulness, were several of his most positive defining characteristics.

Ezra had gone looking for the young man earlier in the day, to … well, even he was still slightly confused about the motives behind his actions but it seemed likely that he had gone to offer comfort and in an attempt to head any ill-advised moves off at the pass, especially if his subsequent levels of frustration and sadness after finding out he was too late were anything to go by. He had found the kid’s room unlocked and nearly empty; all of the boy’s personal belongings gone. A tight, pinched feeling in his gut had had him nearly running (a most undignified state without the threat of imminent harm to his person as motivation) to check with Yosemite at the stables. He only received more confirmation of what he had begun to fear; a cursory check with the stage, and he had his proof positive answer - J.D. was running out on them, or did that particular expression only apply to certain gambler con-men?

_John Dunne will soon be departing the municipality._

Ezra hadn't been there a couple of days ago to see the precipitating event unfold; none of the peacekeepers, except for J.D., had been there when things in the bank had taken a nasty turn. From what he had managed to piece together after the fact - and as none of his colleagues had felt like speaking to him about the event, he’d had to resort to snooping about the bank, listening to local gossip, and eavesdropping on several conversations in the saloon to get his information - things had happened very fast during the incident. There had been no prior warning, no time to come up with a plan or to wait for backup; one had simply had to take things as they happened. Unfortunately, that had meant that the greenhorn had initially had to handle things alone with no experienced hand to help guide him.

Apparently, an exchange of gunfire had occurred between Mr. Dunne and the miscreants as he performed his duties as sheriff and attempted to stop them from absconding with the bank’s money. It was during the gunfight that the innocent bystander, Miss Annie, was seriously wounded. She later died from those injuries. The facts and truths regarding this act were hard to come by, harder still to separate from fiction and supposition, and things only got murkier as public opinion swayed towards the grieving widower. That man had no problem with making sure everyone in town knew just who he blamed for his wife’s death - their inexperienced sheriff, John Dunne.

According to the latest overheard town gossip, J.D. had shot the poor women due to his own recklessness, or maybe he shot her on purpose in impatience to capture the bad guys and make a name for himself, or perhaps he shot her coldheartedly because she was in his way, or he shot her because of some other imagined sin of the irresponsible youth. The latest rumor he’d just managed to hear had sent him straight into the saloon looking for a stiff drink and a quiet place to think.

People were starting to say that the brunet easterner was too young to be sheriff, which on its own was nothing new really, as they had complained as much before, but it was the verbal addition that J.D. was a danger to the public and thus ought to have his guns taken away from him - for everyone else’s safety, of course - that had Ezra worried. Talk like that suggested to the Southerner that people were hoping to either get the boy killed or to drive him out of town, both options were circumstances that he himself had faced from townspeople before in other places and he knew that the peacekeepers needed to get ahead of the rumors and start countering arguments soon if they wanted to retain any sort of position for the boy. Unfortunately, he seemed to be the only one willing to fight for such a situation, and though he knew his skills were more than up to the challenge, it would all be worthless if the boy himself was not willing to stay.

_J.D. is leaving town._

It seems that following the incident, or rather ever since he has had to face the entire town’s poor opinion of him alone really, that Mr. Dunne has gradually come to be in agreement with the bad views of his behavior. The gambler himself has overheard the lad claiming to have fanned his guns during the fight, something the kid had been told many times not to do by various members of their group, and how because of that he feels he is guilty of killing the young lady. Never mind that he hadn't even known the girl was injured until told later by someone else.

Ezra is nearly certain that J.D. did not start thinking so badly of himself immediately after the event, that it was not until after seemingly the whole town, including his girl and several of his supposed friends, had all turned on him that he began to be convinced that he was some kind of a liability. The boy most likely would have initially felt guilty for playing a part in the accident, and Ezra has no doubts that it was an accident of some sort and not a malicious action on the young man’s part, but J.D. wouldn't have thought to place himself in the role of villain of the piece. That simply was not in his character.

If one were to believe the current gossip, as it seems his young easily influenced friend now does, the Easterner was neither heroic enough nor reliable enough to stay and be a part of the ‘Magnificent Seven’ peacekeepers. Of course, such a belief was utter nonsense as not one of the men they work with is perfect, nor are they always reliable, and they have certainly all made their fair share of mistakes - something that the others make an oft habit of conveniently forgetting when it comes time to lay blame.

The J.D. situation (along with one involving a poetry writing tracker now quite upset with him) very nearly made the Southern gambler regret how wrapped up he had allowed himself to become in his attempts to prove himself against Big Lester Banks. But it had been a very long time since he’d had a chance to test his skills against another player of the same caliber as himself, excluding his mother, and the gambler from St. Louis had fit the bill perfectly. Their dusty burg had nothing much to offer up in challenge to Ezra’s poker skills, especially when he had to resort to creative card handling - in order to lose at least some hands - while playing certain of his compatriots.

Maude had casually mentioned being unsure as to the continued existence of his ‘god given talents’ on her last visit. He had ignored her at the time, of course, but that remark had been the instigator of his own doubts. He was used to his mother calling his expertise into question, causing him to doubt his natural skill with the cards, but never before had he failed to find a way to immediately prove her wrong. She had left him with a humiliating offer to save a seat for him at her table, in order to ensure he didn't lose his shirt as he relearned his skills. The insinuation had left him with a rather urgent desire to prove that his proficiency had not lessened, and that single minded drive seems to have had led to some rather unexpected (and surprisingly poor) results. Especially seeing as he had yet to determine the method Mr. Banks used to cheat in order to find a proper strategy to act against it.

_John Daniel will be gone soon._

No matter how he phrased it in his head, it just didn't seem real. After so many months of working with these six men, of studying them and their habits, he had felt that he knew them inside and out. He would never have seriously doubted the predictions he made based upon their past behaviors; he had, in fact, bet more than money on them in the past, and won. Ezra had felt he could trust them to take care of themselves and each other whilst he put most of his attention towards testing his competency at cards against a most welcome challenger. But this latest debacle had put paid to that notion.

Before this latest mishap, he would have bet good money that Buck, at least, would never have let things with the boy he had taken under his wing deteriorate to such lows that the kid would feel he had to leave town in order to make things right. It seems that he would have lost that bet. He also would have given better than even odds that Larabee would now stand up for one of his men, especially the kid, if such a situation ever presented itself where he was needed. He would have lost money there too. He even would have bet that J.D. would be the last of them to ever voluntarily leave their merry band of men. Seems he would have lost that bet as well. His mother would be appalled, or perhaps delighted as she had never much cared for his new companions and this did rather paint them in an unflattering light.

_What am I going to do about it? Should I do anything about it?_

From what the gambler could gather, none of the others has made a move to speak to the boy and set him straight about all the rumors, and not one of the other peacekeepers, aside from Buck (who it seems had backed off awful fast), had attempted to get J.D.’s side of things or even spoken with him about the accident in any detail. And an accident it most assuredly was, tragic to be sure, but an accident by any common sense standards. Which might be part of the problem since common sense, along with the courage to speak out, has never been something available in great abundance among the fair townspeople of Four Corners - just ask Mr. Jackson.

It isn't even known for sure that J.D., and not the robbers, fired the bullet that struck the young woman; no one he has talked to can recall the exact event in detail or, more often, even at all realistically. He also does not think that anyone has yet looked into lines of fire or ricochets. And even if it turns out to be Mr. Dunne’s bullet, it would not be the first time that a bystander had been hit by a stray bullet during one of their gun battles, simply the first time that such an innocent has died from the wound. Additionally, it is not as if others, even several of their fellow peacekeepers, haven’t committed worse crimes, sometimes on purpose even, so to let the boy go on thinking so badly of himself under such circumstances stinks highly of hypocrisy, and that is one sin Ezra P. Standish prides himself on avoiding.

_Is there even anything I can do about the situation?_

Mr. Wilmington is the boy’s best friend and mentor, if anyone were to be able to talk the young man into staying it would normally be him; thus, there has to be a reason for why Buck has backed so far off that this travesty is still occurring under his nose. Giving a young man room to breathe and to think about his actions is only a good idea if said young man is not entirely too open and easily swayed by the opinions of others. It is way past the time for Buck to have intervened and set the kid straight, though perhaps the ladies man is simply unaware of the severity of the current state of affairs. Their resident Romeo could sometimes be very focused in the pursuit of his chosen pleasures after all and had even been known to drop out of sight for days at a time.

“Please hide this back behind the bar for me, won’t you, Senorita?” Ezra asks, handing the bottle of Scotch to Inez, who, until he spoke, had been standing at the far end of the bar drying glasses and sending him concerned looks. “I have a certain lothario to locate.”


	2. Intercession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ezra finds Buck and has an important chat.

It didn't take Ezra long to find his fellow peacekeeper; he had barely stepped out onto the boardwalk before spotting the object of his pursuit.

“Buck, just the man I wanted to see.” Ezra called, spying his quarry stepping out of Mrs. Potter’s store popping a small candy into his mustached mouth.

“Hey, Hoss. What can I do for ya?” The dark haired man turned to greet Standish with a large grin. “This ain't about Big Lester again is it? Cause I gotta tell ya, I still don’t know how he beat ya all those times, Ez.”

“He cheated. I told you. I just haven’t figured out how quite yet,” green eyes sparked with ire. Buck’s simple words bringing to mind once again the only barely suppressed feelings of embarrassment, anger, and failure that his repeated lack of success has brought. He was also starting to worry about his posting as a peacekeeper, a position which was surely based upon his ability to cheat and con, and to spot such in return. _As the loss of my skills becomes widely known will I still be depended upon or will I be the next one driven out of town?_

“Okay, okay, so you keep saying. I believe ya, Hoss.” Smiling, Buck holds his hands up in mock surrender.

A cheerful, “So, what did you need, Ez?” interrupts the Southerner’s silent fuming at the total lack of understanding veritably emanating from the larger man, and brings his mind back to his reason for seeking out the gregarious cowboy in the first place.

“It’s about J.D.,” seeing he suddenly has the full attention of a much more serious Buck, he continues. “Were you aware that he is planning on leaving our fair municipality?”

“He’s leaving what? Speak plain for once.” Buck frowns as he thinks he’s puzzled out what Ezra could mean, but doesn't want to believe it. _Things couldn't be that bad already, could they?_

“J.D. is leaving town on today’s stage. He’s sold his horse, given up his room, and I’m sure he’s on his way to resign as sheriff as well, if he hasn't already done so.” Sharp green eyes track each minute change in expression as they flit across the expressive face across from him. “You didn't know.”

“Aw, Hell! No, I didn't know. Are you sure?” Seeing the answering nod, he yanks his hat off his head and slaps it across his thigh before jamming it back onto his head. “Dammit. What in tarnation is that fool thinking?” 

“I could hazard a guess or two, but it might be better to discuss such matters well away from the always open ears of our citizenry.” Ezra drawls in reply as he nods his head towards a nearby loitering group of men who are clearly attempting to listen in on their quiet conversation. “Follow me.” 

He turns, leading the way back into the saloon and up to his room. Once inside, he takes a seat on the edge of his bed and waves Buck into the rocking chair opposite. “Now that we are safe from the casual eavesdroppers, how do you feel about this news?”

Buck casts an incredulous stare back at him, “How do you think I feel?”

“I am merely trying to ascertain whether or not you wish to see young J.D. leave here and return to the East.” A raised eyebrow and slight head tilt convey bland curiosity to the brunet cowboy across from him. 

“Of course I don’t want that fool boy to leave! Hell, Ezra, what are you thinking?” In his agitation Buck nearly rocks himself right out of his seat, leaning himself so far forward as to almost not be sitting at all.

“Well, I have been trying to understand why you, as his self-professed mentor, have left him alone to wallow in misplaced guilt for so long with nary a word of encouragement or support.” Ezra doesn't allow Buck’s shocked expression to deter him from finishing his thoughts. “Assuming you do actually care for him and wish him no harm, then the only logical reason I can see would seem to be your wanting him to return to the safety of the, supposedly, tamer East. Am I wrong?”

“Yes! You are so wrong, you-you’re dead wrong!” Overcome with emotions, the angry, and now guilt-ridden, ladies man can barely stammer a heartfelt reply to the false accusation, his usual exaggerated speech and proverbial expressions deserting him. He had never meant for things to get so far out of hand. _If this is what Ezra’s thinking, then what the hell has J.D. been thinking all this time?_

“So it seems,” The relief felt at that acknowledgment of the truthfulness of his words is so great, Buck nearly misses the words that follow. “But if that is so, it begs the question - why have you left the poor soul alone to flounder so badly?”

“I didn't…I…damn….” Buck lets out a groan, tossing his hat onto the nearby dresser, and dropping his head down into his hands. It’s a fair question, and it’s coming from a friend, so he starts talking. “At first, right after he told me what happened, I was angry with him. I have told that boy over and over ‘don’t fan your guns’, and I thought that he had finally understood and learned the lesson. But then he tells me that he shot Annie because he fanned his guns. He was in too much of a hurry to be a big hero, and look what happened. I thought I’d taught him better than that.”

“You were upset that he had neglected your advice, that is reasonable; tell me, if no one had been injured, would you have still been as angry?” Ezra works to phrase his question in a way that won’t ignite the other’s sometimes volatile temper.

Buck glances up at the green eyes across from him, and reads only compassion and support as the younger man awaits his response. While he doesn't yet get what the tricky man is leading up to, Buck realizes that Ezra is only trying to help, so he makes a quick promise to himself to answer all of the Southerner’s questions as truthfully as he can without getting angry or upset - well, without taking those emotions out on the gambler anyways. He thinks a moment before he answers.

“No. I mean, yeah, I would have been angry with him for doing something stupid when he knows better, but I wouldn't have been as outright mad at him if he hadn't actually hit anyone while being stupid.”

“So, you were not really angry because he forgot your advice in the heat of battle and reverted back to his old bad habits; that’s understandable after all, lamentable, but understandable. Instead, you were angry that he had accidentally shot someone. An innocent. Why is that?” Ezra keeps his face serene and his posture relaxed as his fellow peacekeeper frowns at him for his seeming callousness. 

“Because she was a nice lady, and now she’s dead. Jeezus, Ezra, why the hell do you think?” Buck sits up and struggles not to take his anger out on his entirely too calm pal.

“Oh, I don’t know. The accidental death of a nice lady fills me with sadness not anger, but then that’s just me. Unless, of course, you think that J.D. meant to kill her?” Ezra chooses his words simply, to not only mirror his companions conversational tone but to convey a bluntness not often found in his typical vocal style. He finds it a convenient and useful ploy when dealing with certain of his fellow peacekeepers.

“No! No, I don’t think that at all, and don’t you try and make it seem like I do either!” Buck growls and clenches his fists. Maybe he will be taking his anger out on Ez after all, punching that pretty face was starting to sound like a good way to shut the man up.

“So, why are you angry at her death and not sad?” This conversation was becoming entirely too much like leading a cow to water. Was Buck being purposely obtuse?

“Who says I’m not sad? I am. I’m sad. I just…oh.” Blinking, Buck finally understands exactly where his anger has been coming from, and it doesn't have much at all to do with Annie herself. “I was so mad at him because I was so worried about him. I still am; he was an innocent with a clean slate before this mess. I was a Texas Ranger, I know what effects this kind of an incident can have on a lawman and his career. Hell, it’s already happening out there.” Buck waves an arm indicating the street outside Ezra’s second story window. “J.D. is so emotional already, I know this will eat him up for a long while. And all because of an accident that could have been avoided.”

“What makes you so sure he was the one who shot her? There was a lot of lead flying around that day, and not all of it was shot by Mr. Dunne.” Ezra points out what was obvious to him, and what should have been obvious to everyone else. Buck just stares at him for a long frozen minute, before he breaks into a vigorous round of swearing and jumps up to start pacing alongside the bed.

“J.D. said he shot her.” Buck states thinking back to when they last talked about the incident.

“Did he now? Well, that is what he was told, I’m sure, and it may even be true. Though, from what I understand from talk about the confrontation, it all happened so fast and caused such a commotion that I don’t see how anyone could be absolutely sure of what all happened. But in regards to your point, was he even in a position where he could actually see whether or not one of his bullets hit her?” The doubt shining clear on Standish’s face tells exactly what he thinks of that idea.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Buck stops pacing to close his eyes and think back on J.D.’s placement outside and Annie’s inside. “No, I don’t think so. He was outside, behind some cover. He was shooting in her direction, so he could have hit her, but he wouldn't have been able to see that. And no one has mentioned where those loco hombres - trying to rob our bank with just two men, can you imagine? - anyway, no one mentioned where they were standing or which way they were shooting, so maybe it was one of them. Do you think it could have been them and not J.D.?”

“I doubt we will ever know for sure, but it does shed some light on our situation, opens up alternate possibilities, and begs the question - why is everyone so set on blaming our young sheriff for this terrible mishap?” Ezra frowns as he thinks about the players in this brewing melodrama. “The grieving widower I can understand, he needs someone to blame for this injustice and J.D., as the only law there at the time, is an easy target. This town’s inhabitants are sheep, easily stirred up and led, but just as easily placated if an effort is put forth by the right people. But I confess that I am at a loss when it comes to understanding the motivation behind the desertion of Mr. Dunne by Miss Casey and our fellow compatriots.”

Buck sits back down in the rocker as he thinks over likely reasons for why the people J.D. considers friends have turned on him, using his own misguided thoughts as a reference. “Well, I know that he and Casey talked the day after the accident, and if he told her anything like what he told me then she must think that he killed Annie out of stupidity and carelessness. I doubt she’ll stay angry at him for long though, not once she’s grieved her friend a bit and started thinking about how it was an accident and JD never meant to harm the lady. Casey’s a good kid, she’ll come around.” 

“And Mr. Larabee? He’s been more than a bit harsh on Mr. Dunne lately. To be honest, I rather expected him to back J.D. up when the rumors started, but instead he seemed to do the opposite. As an old friend of his, would you happen to know why that is?” Ezra struggled to keep his expression neutral, but feared some of his personal concern may have leaked through. _And can I expect the same lack of support if a similar occurrence ever happens to befall my person? I had thought that as a team we’d moved beyond such issues. Apparently not._

“Yeah, I noticed that Chris has been a real asshole about all this; just standing around and letting those jerks badmouth J.D. and talk about taking his guns.” Buck glared out the window and clenched his fists again, this time thinking about hitting a different face. “I don’t know what wild hair he’s got up his butt lately. I guess he’s having a bad week or something. I tried to get him to talk to J.D., to let the kid know everything would be okay and that it could have happened to any of us, you know? Instead Chris just said ‘but it didn't’ - what the hell is that supposed to mean, I ask you? I've tried talking to him since then too, but nothing I say does any good; man’s stubborn like a mule once he’s made up his mind about something.” 

“And it’s likely that as he’s our fearless leader, none of the others have dared go against his implied wishes. I see.” Ezra frowned, not liking the general cowardliness and complacency of the others anymore when it worked to J.D.’s detriment than he did when it normally went against himself. “And the reason why you didn't just share those sentiments with J.D. yourself?”

“I was letting him handle things on his own, be a man and think about his mistakes. And I guess, I was still kind of angry at him.” Buck replied rubbing the back of his neck with a rueful look on his usually joyful face.

“Running an unfortunate event over and over in one’s mind with the perfect vision of hindsight is not good for anyone. Especially someone like J.D., who is entirely too easily affected by the opinions of others, wrong as they may be.” Ezra shakes his head slowly, looking concerned. “He’s sure to have taken Chris’s displeasure to heart, and without any support from yourself, or the rest of us, and with the low estimation of the town on top of it all, he’s sure to have come up with some fool-headed notions.”

Buck ran a hand through his hair, loosening it up and smoothing it down, and as he let several plans drift through his mind he curiously asked, “Why haven’t you spoken to J.D., if you’re so concerned?”

“I confess that, until earlier today, I had been rather distracted, with, as you previously noted, a certain unscrupulous, and very skilled, cheater.” It was Ezra’s turn to look first sheepish then concerned. “And I had not realized that no one had spoken with the boy about the incident. I am afraid that I had assumed that yourself, or Mr. Sanchez, would without delay have offered a plethora of advice along with useless proverbs and stories to soothe his soul.”

“Well, I don’t know about Josiah, but I sure ain't done a thing to help the kid deal with his hurtin’ conscience, though I think it’s about time that changed. You want to come along? You’d be a real help, what with your logical thinking and fancy speechifying. Hell, you just helped me get my head back on straight.” Buck looked over at his reserved friend with hope shining bright in his eyes, and with the faint beginnings of concern growing inside for the reasons behind Ez’s sudden obsession with Big Lester Banks. But as he could only handle one calamity at a time, and Ez seemed to be doing alright, he’d just think more on that issue later, maybe ask around a bit and try to puzzle things out after they set J.D. to rights.


	3. Catharsis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck and Ezra locate J.D. and try to convince him to stay.

They found J.D. at the first place they checked - the stables. The quiet young man was in a stall saying a final good-bye to his horse. The kid really was a great horseman; it would really be a shame to lose him simply for that reason alone. None of the other lawmen could handle each of their seven ornery horses - from Devil to Peso and right on down to Chaucer, J.D. had a way with each of them - not even Vin could get it perfectly right with each horse (most likely because he usually had to spend all his energy controlling his own rambunctious mount). Of course, there were many other motives beyond good horsemanship skills for wanting to have the kid stick around. 

“Okay, Ez, let me try him first. See just how serious he is and how far he’s willing to go with this cockamamie plan of his. Then, if needed, you break out the logic and speechifying.” Ezra nodded his agreement to the plan and hung back a bit, letting Buck take the lead and approach their young friend first. 

“Thanks, Yosemite. Take good care of him now, you hear?” The large man simply smiled and gave his assurances to the worried Easterner before nodding to Buck and Ezra and making his way past them out of the stables.

“You really sold your horse?” Buck had been shocked when Ezra had told him as much, and he was still shocked now, even confronted with the proof.

“Yep.” J.D. turned, looking surprised and a little wary to see Buck and Ezra.

“Have you lost your mind?” It was the only explanation Buck could come up with for the kid selling his pride and joy, the boy loved that horse like nothing else. 

“Nope. I lost Casey. Lost the town’s faith in me. Lost faith in myself, but...I ain't lost my mind.” The kid looked regretful as he mentioned his once lady love, became matter of fact as he talked about the lost faith, and ended with a slight smirk as he defended his mental faculties. 

Ezra was glad to see the mischievous side of their young friend peeking out, even if only for a moment. It gave him hope that J.D. wasn’t as lost in depression as he had feared. It also lent hope for the success of their plan to talk the boy into staying. 

“Haven't lost your friends, J.D.,” Buck said earnestly, reaching out to place a hand on the younger man‘s shoulder. “I’m still here, and so is Ez.”

That was Buck for you, cutting straight to what he considered to be the heart of the matter. Ezra nodded his agreement to J.D. as he stepped up next to the tall mustached cowboy. “Indeed.”

“I appreciate that, Buck, Ezra; I really do. But I come to a decision. I'm gonna head back east.” The kid’s face shut down and showed nothing but grim determination, but he didn’t shrug off Buck’s hand or move away from them. 

_Mr. Dunne certainly seems to be serious about his impromptu plans._ Ezra only hoped that he and Buck could coax the usually persuadable kid to become equally as serious about staying and working through the consequences of this latest mishap. It would likely help if they let him know that he could expect their help with the matter from this point forward, and perhaps a small apology for abandoning him until now.

“Hey, we need you... all right? Right, Ez?” Buck pleaded, barely stopping himself from shaking the boy to make his point. Ezra nodded his agreement trying to look genuinely sincere, because for once, he actually was in complete agreement. “You can't just leave.” 

“I appreciate that, too, Buck, but I'm a kid, remember?” J.D. scowled, then slumped. “Heck, I'd just slow you down.“

“Well, I need you. You're my friend, and, uh...what am I supposed to do...without you?” Buck floundered, starting to feel, and look, a little desperate as he realized just how dedicated J.D. was to leaving. He cast a quick glance over at the quiet conman to see if Ezra was prepared to jump in if the kid remained stubborn even in the face of this almost pitiful begging coming from the mustached cowboy. 

“Ah, you'll think of something.” J.D. was so busy looking down and feeling sorry for himself that he completely missed it when his best friend’s face fell. He looked up with a frown when his shoulder was squeezed, maybe a bit too hard, by Buck as the older man stepped slightly to the side in order for Ezra to come closer.

“Before you go, if we could just have a few moments of your time. I think there are a few nuances to the situation that you may not have given much thought to before now.” Deciding that the empty stables were private enough for the upcoming discussion, he led the former sheriff to the back of the building and over to a conveniently placed hay bale, there Buck pushed the kid’s shoulders down getting him to sit facing the gambler, before moving to stand next to Ezra in front of the now confused boy. Ezra then proceeded to relate the basics of his previous conversation with Buck to J.D., including the beliefs the two of them had reached about their colleagues latest actions, or rather lack of actions. 

As he spoke, the occasional conman maintained as much eye contact with the usually active kid as he could, when the young man wasn’t looking over at Buck with wide eyes that is, in order to help convey the truthfulness of his words. The young Easterner rarely interrupted, not even for clarification, as Ezra was speaking as plainly as he could, and he asked few questions, being smart enough to understand what Standish was laying out for him.

As Ezra came to the finale of his hastily planned speech, he ended with his own heartfelt request to the brown-eyed youth who had become like a younger brother to him. “Stay, Mr. Dunne. This time around you will have both Buck’s and my own unwavering support when facing the uncultured masses, including against Mr. Larabee and the rest of our compatriots, if necessary. Please, forgive us our recent inattention and give us another chance.”

“Please, J.D., you’re like the little brother we never had; don’t leave, not now and especially not over an accident like this,” Buck begged, adding his own entreaty to Ezra’s.

J.D.’s brown orbs filled with tears as he prepared to speak. “You guys really believe all that? And you think of me like family?”

“Of course we do!” Buck exclaimed right away, looking wounded that his feelings were being questioned. 

Ezra, on the other hand, took a moment to put some thought into what exactly he would say; he did not like to lie to any of the men he worked with, especially not to the youngest member of their group, so he took care of what words he chose now because he knew J.D. would put great stock in them. 

“I meant every word I said before J.D., and though I…. I don’t really have great experience with family, I know that I do not wish for you to leave. I believe I would miss you if you were to go, and I know that Buck would be near inconsolable. Stay, and I will help to support you however you need.”

“You really don’t think I’m reckless and a public danger? That I brought this upon myself? That it was bound to happen sooner or later as long as I was sheriff? That it’s bound to happen again?” J.D. blurted out, brown eyes wide and filled with fear. 

He barely stopped long enough to even breathe between questions, let alone long enough to wait for a response from either man. It wasn’t until after he’d finished letting out the thoughts that had been plaguing him that he looked to his friends for their answers. The speed with which he spit out his questions revealed just how much the thoughts behind them had been bothering him. In truth, it’d been ever since he overheard a conversation where even Chris seemed to think they were true. 

J.D. looks to Ezra to tell him the truth, knowing that the conman would never outright lie to him, while Buck, with the best of intentions, may try to color the truth to make him feel better. 

Before Ezra can start explaining how false he finds those accusations to be, and why, Buck jumps in looking mighty upset.

“Re-reckless? A public danger! Just where did you hear all that?” Buck demands with clenched jaw and fists. He is bound and determined to punch someone in the face today, and that’s that. He knows it’ll make him feel a whole lot better though, if it’s someone who deserves a good wallop.

With a swallow J.D. replies “I know you don’t think that way, Buck. I heard how you tried to defend me, but, well, you always defend me. It’s what you do. Don’t always mean you’re right.” 

“You…heard.” A slamming kick to the nearest stall shows just how upset Buck is by this latest news. “Son of a bitch! Don’t you dare listen to those lousy, ungrateful, low-down, no-good yellow-bellies! Not a one of them has ever stepped up to take your place beside us during a gunfight to protect their town nor to do your duties as sheriff. They’re not worth listening to.”

“And Chris? He’s not yellow and he knows a lot about gunfights. Was he wrong too?” 

Ezra knows he has not been made privy to some important information here, but from listening to the conversation he can make an educated guess on what it is he’s missed. He can also see just how much Larabee’s apparent condemnation has crushed J.D.’s spirit; the boy practically idolizes the man after all. The usually energetic and cheerful young man is drooping with weariness and looking like his favorite dog has died right in front of him. Buck isn’t looking much better as he sputters about trying to come up with something to say to explain his oldest friend’s abandonment of the boy. But blind loyalty and a long ingrained unwillingness to condemn any of Chris’s actions hold him back. 

Fortunately, Ezra has no such reasons to hold back in his response. 

“Yes, Mr. Larabee is, without a doubt, absolutely incorrect in this case.” He states with certainty, raising an eyebrow when twin startled looks are his reward, it seems the twosome had forgotten he was even there during their exchange. “You may have once been overly reckless, but that trait has been greatly worked out of you by Mr. Wilmington, and to a lesser degree the rest of us, over the many months we’ve worked together. Your resulting level of recklessness fits right in with our own, I assure you.” 

Buck snorted in amusement at that, but nodded in total agreement when J.D. turned a hope filled face towards him. With startled jerks both brunets returned their attention to the green-eyed gambler as he continued.

“As to being a public danger, that charge is obviously pure nonsense. From nearly the first day you set foot in this dusty little burg you have done nothing but enforce the law and attempt to bring about civilized behavior from all in the community - inhabitants and visitors alike.” With a smirk he adds, “In fact, I seem to recall that a certain sheriff has had no problem arresting several members of our merry band when the occasion, or the Judge, has called for it. And if that crafty old man has had any worries regarding your service record, I have no doubt that we would all know about them by now - you have been sheriff for quite a while after all.” 

“You know how sorry I am for all that, right Ez?” the slightly embarrassed young man asks.

“Aw, he knows kid,” Buck cuts in with a gentle smile. “You were just doing your job.”

“Certainly; I understood at the time, J.D., it’s not a problem.” Ezra forgives the youth easily for there truly had been no harm meant, and gratefully none came about either, when the lad had incarcerated him. “You have consistently attempted to keep the public, even ungrateful as they have often been, safe from brigands, lowlifes, and thieves. You take your responsibility as sheriff seriously and are in no way a danger to the very people you regularly risk your life to defend.”

“Damn straight! What he said.” Buck nods sharply and gestures toward Ezra, his open face easily showing his complete agreement with everything the Southerner has just said.

“Now, let us address the idea that you, in some way, have brought this incident upon yourself and that it was inevitable. I am assuming that you mean due to your accepting these responsibilities at such a young age?” He waits for the boy to nod his head yes, then moves on, “That idea is complete nonsense as well.” 

“But, Ez, I am awful young - maybe the youngest sheriff ever, even.” J.D. butts in with a mix of anxiety and pride writ large across his face. Buck rolls his eyes at the kid’s antics while awaiting Standish’s reply.

“You have been performing the job successfully for quite a while now, if any problems due solely to your young age were to occur don’t you think they would have happened before? At the beginning of your appointment as Sheriff? When you were even younger and more inexperienced?” The gambler can see a dawning look of comprehension spread across his young friend’s face as he finishes his thought. “No such thing has happened because the idea is ludicrous. You have never been the type of man to let age hold you back or keep you from taking advice and help when you needed it.” 

Ezra hands the young man a handkerchief and gives him a moment to compose himself, pausing to let Buck get in a side hug and a quick word of encouragement to the quietly crying J.D., “It’s alright, kid. Ez is just speaking some truths here.” 

“This incident was nothing more than a tragic accident. Sad? Yes, definitely. But still just an accident. And, I’m sorry to say, it was bound to happen to one of us sooner or later.” Keen green eyes meet narrowed blue orbs as Ezra glances over to Buck. The gambler isn’t really surprised that the former Texas Ranger hasn’t thought about the odds yet, Buck does tend to live very much in the now. “We have been in how many gunfights in the middle of this miserable town since we started our tenure as peacekeepers?” 

J.D. frowns in concentration trying to count them all in his head, then scowls as he loses count and has to start over - there were a lot more than he’d first thought. Buck frowns as well, but in consternation as he realizes something he should have known all along. If he had been acting more like a lawman and less like a randy tom cat he would have long since prepared the kid to face this kind of a situation.

“Frankly, I’m surprised it hasn’t happened sooner or to more people, especially with the way our financial institution is always attracting the wrong kind of attention. You’d think we housed gold bricks in there with the way ruffians are constantly sniffing about trying their luck.” Ezra frowns in disgust at the reminder of the many times he’s had to interrupt an otherwise pleasant activity in order to safe guard his compatriots against some miscreant or other. 

His obvious scorn gathers the complete attention of two grinning brunets as he continues speaking.

“If, and I stress if, it was indeed one of your bullets that struck and caused the death of the young woman, it was not done on purpose. You did not aim at her, and you have certainly never set out to shoot any innocent bystander. 

“Whenever there are extra people about during a gunfight there is always the possibility of the wrong person being hit. This was not the first time in history that such an innocent was killed, nor will it be the last. In fact, if asked, I bet several of our compatriots could relate such tales of their own experience to you - myself included. 

“So, a situation like this may indeed occur again in the future, but perhaps next time it will be Buck, myself, or even Mr. Larabee, behind the gun and facing the consequences. Consider this, if it had been anyone else there that morning - if one of us had arrived at the bank first and engaged in the shootout not you - with the same outcome of a dead young lady, would you look at them differently? Would you blame them? 

“We are all only human after all, never mind that some of us may think otherwise.” Ezra doesn’t think he’s spoken this frankly and honestly to anyone in years, and can only trust that neither Buck nor J.D. will use anything he’s said, or implied, against him at a later date.

“Ez’s right. Even I’ve winged a few nosy residents before, and in my Ranger days I knew a few good men who were in situations much like your own. Heck! Even Old Larabee has had bullets go astray on him.” Bucks looks serious, though slightly annoyed by his own mention of their fearless leader, but he’s for sure gotten his point across to the boy.

“I…I never really thought about it like that before,” looking thoughtful J.D. straightens up from his slouch and explains himself to his friends, no, to his brothers. “I guess I was so locked into the thought that I did it, that I never really thought about how it could have easily been someone else. I never once, not ‘til now, thought about how I would feel if it had been someone else to pull the trigger. Because it did happen to me and I never really saw beyond myself and the misery caused to me by the shooting…the accident. And I get that now, that it really was an accident, whether it was my bullet or not. I wouldn’t think you guilty of murder if the same happened to one of you.”

Ezra and Buck exchanged a concerned look over the boy’s now bowed head at that last exclamation. Had J.D. been struggling for days under the misguided impression that he was a murderer? The two older men felt near identical pains of guilt for not attempting to reach out to their beleaguered brother before now.

“It’s just that it’s so hard not to believe that I did something to cause Annie’s death. I was right there and it was my job to keep her safe, but I failed. I failed! And her husband and the rest of the town all blame me. How can I stay here, keep being Sheriff, knowing all that?” 

Ezra tilts his head as new thoughts work their way though his agile mind, quickly appreciating their meaning and determining how best to present them to his stressed friend. “This wasn’t a pre-planned raid or a set-up, where we have a lot of information and time to come up with the perfect angle and arrangements; it happened out of the blue, with no warning. You had no notion of how dangerous the thieves really were, if they would have executed everyone in that bank, if they would have gone on to rob more banks and caused more harm, perhaps future deaths. You had a job to do - stop the bank robbers. Which you did - in that you did not fail. If you could go back and redo things knowing what you know now, of course you would change your actions, try to keep everyone alive, but what if you only knew what you knew at the time, could you have truly done anything differently?”

J.D. looks up at the question, frowning as he gives it some real thought and not just blurting out the first words in his mind. “I shouldn’t have fanned my guns. I would go back and change that, and then Miss Annie would be alive. And maybe I should have waited for backup before starting anything too.”

“Now that’s just nonsense right there,” Buck chimes in with a soft voice and a serious look. He moves closer to the boy and puts his right hand on J.D.’s left shoulder. “There ain’t a one of us that would have just sat there and waited and let those men get away. You had no way of knowing how close any of us were or when we could back you up, so you had to do something while you could. And it ain’t like any of us hasn’t done the same in the past or won‘t do in the future. You really think Chris is planning on waiting for any of us in the future if he thinks he needs to act?”

J.D. nods but Buck and Ezra can both see that he isn’t truly convinced yet. Bucks gives his shoulder a gentle squeeze as Ezra takes a stab at helping to clear up an overly cluttered and guilty conscience.

“You have no way of knowing what type of men they were J.D., they had guns and were robbing the bank, they might have taken hostages with them to escape and then killed them or worse later, or perhaps they might have decided to shoot their way out of town and someone might have gotten killed then.” Ezra points out from his relaxed position slightly farther away facing the two best friends. “Besides, isn’t it in your sheriff contract to stop bank robbers, not aid and abet them? I am sure there would be many unhappy townspeople calling for your resignation as sheriff if it became known that you just let thieves go about their business without repercussions.”

“You were just doing your job, J.D.” Buck states his agreement in simpler terms bending slightly to try and catch the boy‘s eyes with his own to show his faith. 

“Ok, but what about fanning my guns? I know I shouldn’t have done that! Annie would be alright if I had only remembered to listen to your advice Buck.” J.D. shrugs Bucks comforting hand off his shoulder as he stands to look his mentor in the eye ignoring the tears forming in his own.

“Would she? Would she really?” Ezra interrupts the stare off with a thoughtful look, raising his brows at his friends when they both seem to once again recall that he’s there and turn to look at him at the same time.

“Of course she would!” J.D. practically shouts, anger showing on his usually jovial features as he turns to fully face the gambler, ignoring the hand back on his shoulder, now trying to calm him rather than comfort him. He isn’t entirely sure why he’s suddenly so angry but he‘s damn sure going to make sure his friends know he is.

Buck adjusts his stance and strengthens his hold on the boy, prepared to jump in if need be to save Ez a busted lip or something. He’s seen J.D. like this before, though not very often, and it’s usually when he’s talking about something from his past. Seems the kid prefers to feel anger over pain, rage over hurt, and he has a bad habit of turning one emotion into another. Not really a healthy way of coping, but then again none of them really have healthy ways of dealing with troublesome things.

“Even if you weren’t the one who shot her in the first place?” The green-eyed conman queries calmly, easily overlooking the boy’s show of temper. He figures the lad is more than due some emotional outbursts, though if things look to become physical he shall have to encourage Mr. Wilmington to take a much more active role in things. Not that he expects things to go that way with J.D., the boy has always been one of the last to initiate conflict between members of their merry band. It is a character trait the three of them share - keep the peace however is needed - though they go about it in wholly different manners.

J.D. scowls at the Southerner in consternation and feels his anger fade to a more manageable level, he no longer feels as if he’s going to explode in rage, though he is rather irked at Ezra for managing to stay so calm and not moving an inch away from his show of temper. As his breathing slows and the red fades from his eyes, he can hear Ez’s last words echo in his mind. His head drifts down until he is staring blankly at Ezra’s shiny boots. _What if I wasn’t the one who shot her?_

“But that’s not fair.” 

Buck and Ezra exchange confused and concerned looks as they hear the quiet whisper. 

“What’s not fair, J.D.” Buck asks in a soft tone of voice, loosening his grip into more of a side hug. He doesn’t want to disrupt the boy’s thoughts, just wants him to speak them all aloud.

“That everyone blames me, that they all hate me, that they’re all being so mean, and I might not even have done anything wrong!” J.D. blurts out in a rush. His head jerks up to blink wild eyes at Ez before turning to the side to see Buck‘s face. He’s not sure what all he’s feeling at the moment but he knows he doesn’t much care for it. “If it wasn’t me, then there’s nothing I could have done. I couldn't save her.”

Ezra thinks about making a quiet exit and leaving the two best friends alone to work things out now that the Easterner seems to have had a breakthrough. But as he shifts his weight in preparation to leave, Buck reaches one arm out and stops him with a touch. He’s shocked into stillness as much by the idea that he had allowed himself to get so close to the other two in the first place as he is by the thought that Buck wants him to stay. Ezra knows he isn’t the best at dealing with complicated emotions, fabricating them - yes, but not actually assisting in their treatment. He can’t see how he could possibly be of help in the coming situation. But he doesn’t leave. He stays, feels uncomfortable and inadequate, but he stays. He isn’t quite sure why, but maybe it’s as simple as the fact that in a way he was asked to.

“Aw, kid.” Buck hugs J.D. around the shoulders harder with his left arm as the sobs start up. He catches some movement out of the corner of his eye and spots Ez making to leave, his perfect, blank poker face already settled into place. It isn’t until Buck sees it that he realizes it had been missing for a while. He isn’t too sure when it was replaced by honest, real emotion, but he decides he much preferred the real Ez to the fake one. He’s reaching out with his free right hand and grabbing a hold of Standish’s left arm before he even knows he was planning to. _No way I’m letting you just skedaddle and miss out on the hugs and bonding, Hoss._

“I’m suh-suh-sorry, Buck! I am. I’m sorry. I won’t -” 

“Shush. I know you are kid. It’s alright.”


	4. Realizations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Buck and J.D. begin to figure some things out.

The quiet of the stable is interrupted only by an occasional sniffle and the murmur of comforting words, even the orneriest animals seem to respect the current need for silence. The three men in the rear of the building, so recently involved in such an intense discussion, are now crowded together, two offering comfort while the third finally lets his bottled emotions run free. The young Easterner’s emotions are so intense and expressed so freely that they are having an obvious affect upon his two older friends as well. It’s a private scene and each man is grateful no one has yet wondered in to interrupt it.

Eventually J.D. recovers his composure a bit and straightens up to grin through teary eyes at his newly discovered brothers in all but blood. Buck snorts softly in reply but grins right back through his own tears before tightening his arms around the two younger men. Ezra’s smile is a little stiff, the expression on his face a sort of resigned amusement, but his eyes are just as shiny as theirs even if no tears streak his face. 

Buck has always acted in some ways like the big brother J.D. never had, but the older man had never actually claimed as much out loud before. At least not in any way that the Easterner could use to stake a claim on any kind of real kinship. Oh, he’d known for ages that Buck was his best friend, but the older man had also been Chris’ best friend, and J.D. hadn’t ever been sure who Buck would choose if it came down to any kind of choice. Now he had verbal proof that Buck cared for him in a way that went beyond simple friendship. To know the feelings he has are returned - a brother by choice - causes joy to fill that empty spot J.D. has felt deep inside ever since his mother died and he was left alone in the world. 

And if he was slightly surprised to realize just how much Buck actually valued him, then he was really surprised to have Ezra declaring his own feelings. Well, as much as Ez seemed to be able to anyways, but J.D. understood what the southerner meant. Plus, the fact that he was still there, allowing the two of them to not only touch him but to pretty much hug the air out of him, really showed how Ez felt. J.D. knew that it wasn’t usually the words you had to pay attention to when it came to the gambler, but his actions. _I need to make sure and do something really nice for the both of them soon so they know how much they mean to me._

“Thanks, guys,” J.D. says as he wraps his arms around both their torsos and squeezes gently before stepping back, finally ending the long embrace. “I guess I really needed that.”

“You’re welcome, J.D.,” Ezra calmly states as he too steps away, moving a bit farther off and trying to subtly tug his clothes back into perfect order as he goes. It’s been so long since the last time someone hugged him that he’s not sure what to do next. He’s opened up considerably more than he ever meant to when he first thought of contacting Buck and helping J.D. out. _I should leave them to work things out, but I’m not sure that I want to go yet - oh, honestly, a simple hug should not be unsettling me this much._

“No problem, kid,” is Buck’s quiet reply as he sadly watches Standish start to resurrect his perfect poker face. Realizing that he’s finally seeing behind the mask, the tall brunette frowns as he decides that he doesn’t want to always be on the other side of that wall. He’s learned more about how the conman really thinks and feels in the last hour than he has in the entire past year. He doesn’t want everything to just go back to how it was before - though that’s probably not even possible after this disaster - with J.D. unsure of his place, Ezra always hiding behind a mask, and himself using love to avoid issues he doesn’t want to deal with, and don’t even get him started on his other friends.

Feeling eyes intent upon his person, a sense that has come in quite handy many a time before, Ezra glances up from fixing his slightly bunched up left sleeve to see Buck frowning at him. A quick peek at J.D. reveals that he too is gifting Ezra with a stare, though his is quizzical not unhappy. He allows himself to feel nothing besides an annoyance at himself for falling into the familiar trap of thinking himself wanted. _Well, time for a quick retreat as I do believe I have outstayed my welcome._

Actually watching as that careful, blank poker face melts away to leave behind nothing but the smug gambler-conman he’s known since almost day one nearly makes Buck shiver. He’s never even once before suspected that this too was just another mask that the southerner used. He’d always thought that this, or maybe some slightly less arrogant version, was the real Ez and that the blank face was the only real mask, one the younger man used to hide his emotions. Well, when he’d bothered to think on the subject at all anyway. He’d not had a clue that the conman was so talented at pretending. At least not until today, when he got to see behind the masks for real - and had actually paid attention. Or rather, been forced to pay attention. Some Texas Ranger he was, his old partners would be embarrassed to know him now. _Damn, think I owe Ez an apology. Though now I know who to go to if I ever need acting lessons._

“I’m sure you two have a lot to discuss,” Ezra stated with a small smirk, intent on extracting himself before being asked to leave. “I’ll just -”

Oh, Buck could see where this was going and there was no way in tarnation he was letting Ez leave before he’d figured out a way to stay on the inside of those tricky masks. 

“You’re right,” he broke in cutting the Southerner off, getting only a mild glare for his rudeness. “we all have some important things to talk about. Like what to do about Larabee and the others. Your room was a mighty fine place to take the starch out of me without letting nosy busybodies get any new gossip, you think we can move our chat there, Ez? I doubt Yosemite will be able to guard the stable door for us all day.”

J.D. could practically feel the tension growing by leaps and bounds, and the way Buck was acting was mighty strange, but he trusted his big brother, especially now, so when Buck looked to him for backup he gave it without question. 

“Yeah, I think that sounds like a great idea, Buck. You don’t mind do you, Ez? It’s just that you see things real clear like and I could use some help figuring out what to do next. I did kind of quit after all.” 

Feeling like he was being bamboozled, and trust him Ezra P. Standish knew bamboozling when he saw it, Ezra was never the less inclined to agree to the request. It had nothing whatsoever to do with the twin puppy dog looks he was receiving nor with the lingering feelings stirred up by that ill-conceived earlier show of affection, but rather because he didn’t trust these two not to come to stupid conclusions and act like ignoramuses. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

“I suppose, I can be so persuaded.” He drawled with a raised brow, “but ya’ll better not bring any barn detritus with you. You will not be well pleased with the results if you do.” 

“Huh? Bring what with us?” The Bostonian asked with a very confused look on his face. Did the southerner mean hay? Why would they want to bring hay? Ezra’s bed was bound to be way softer than a bale of hay. He usually knew what Ez meant when he spoke with his fancy words, even if he didn’t always know the exact meaning of the words used, but not this time.

“J.D., he means make sure to clean your boots before we leave. Ez don’t like horse apples, especially not in his bed.” Buck snickered, grinning at the southerner currently rolling his eyes in a very rare example of his own juvenile behavior.

“So, de-tri-tus is another word for horse shit? How come I ain’t never heard no one use that before? Not even Josiah or Chris, and they’re pretty smart too.” J.D. questioned as he used Buck’s shoulder for support to lift his feet up one by one and inspect the bottom of his boots. No detritus.

“Detritus is actually a noun that means debris or pieces of something broken apart, or in this case stepped upon. It isn’t commonly used to refer to manure, so it isn’t too surprising that our more well learned compatriots choose other words when referencing the substance.” Ezra explained with a practiced calm, he was, after all, quite used to expanding the boy’s vocabulary in this manner. He watched his friend twist around with amusement knowing he himself had no need to check the bottoms of his own boots because he always paid careful attention to where he placed his feet.

“So, when we used dynamite to blow up that old stump out at Chris’s place and then he yelled at us and made us run around and pick up all the pieces and wreckage, we could say he made us clean up the detritus?” Buck asked Ezra with his head tilted slightly back and to the side and a huge smirk on his face as he clearly recalled that day with amusement. Chris had been mighty pissed at the two of them ‘playing with death’ as he’d called it. No matter how often Buck and Ezra told him they needed to practice their skills to keep sharp, the man never listened.

Blinking in bemusement, and exchanging a puzzled look with J.D., Ezra replied, “Yes, Buck, that would be an accurate use of the word.”

“How come you ain’t never before explained none of them other fancy words you use?” The mustached man queried with a grunt as he shifted his weight to balance on one foot, twisted at the waist, and lifted the other foot behind him to check the bottom for unwanted surprises.

“You have never asked.” 

“What?” Buck exclaimed, dropping his clean boot back to the ground and straitening up to better examine the expression on Ezra’s face. He glanced at J.D. before turning fully back to the southerner, and calmly rephrasing, “What’s that mean?” 

Still puzzled, and somewhat expecting some joke at his expense to come, Ezra eyed the cowboy warily before deciding to truthfully reply, carefully selecting his words. 

“Neither yourself, nor our other companions, aside from Mr. Dunne here, have ever expressed an interest in learning any of the vocabulary that I employ. Only J.D. has ever actually asked me to define a word for him. I have often heard complaints regarding my diction, but as they rarely ever point out the exact troublesome words I can not simply remove them from my speech. This has led me to believe that no one actually has any genuine trouble with the way that I speak, but rather they are dissatisfied with something else about my person. It would seem that complaining about my ’overly large’ vocabulary is a more polite way of displaying their displeasure. I don’t overly mind, as other displays would likely be far less pleasant.”

Buck frowned, trying to think back and recall if he had ever actually asked Ez what any of his fancy educated words meant. He didn’t think so, but if he ever had, knowing himself like he did, he’d more than likely demanded that Ez explain in plain English what he meant rather than asked nicely for a translation - much like he had done earlier today when Ez had told him about J.D. leaving. Which, if he was honest about it, wasn’t the nicest way of going about things, and he could see why it made Ez feel a bit abused. _Looks like I owe Ez another apology._

Buck didn’t much like feeling dumb, it tended to make him a bit cranky, and back in the beginning it had seemed like Standish went out of his way to make Buck feel like an uneducated boob, so he’d usually responded like a bear with a sore paw. Of course, Buck knew Ezra better now and realized that the fancy words were more of a sign of Ez’s own nerves than anything else. Not that the southerner didn’t use words like weapons whenever he felt threatened, but those were hardly ever aimed at Buck and the mischief loving cowboy usually very much enjoyed watching the resulting show from the sidelines. 

“Ah, man. I’m sorry, Ez,” Buck said as he looked his uneasy friend in the eye. “I ain’t got no problems with you, not even when I cain’t understand what all you’re saying exactly. I just got used to acting a certain way and never really stopped to think about it when things changed. I’ll try to remember to stop and ask you about all those fancy words you know that I don’t instead of making you feel bad for being so smart.” 

Hearing Buck apologize wasn’t really anything new to J.D., it seemed the laidback older man had to say sorry to someone different every other day and he always meant it at the time, though that didn’t always stop him from repeating the bad behavior. But when he made a promise along with the apology, he always tried to follow through on it, so J.D. knew Buck meant it when he said he’d try to act differently. J.D.’s mouth dropped open and his eyebrows about rose right off his face hearing his big brother declare he was gunna be askin’ Ez about words. He'd never realized that not knowing their meaning was something that bothered Buck. J.D. was so busy being startled by the promise that he completely failed to dodge the punch that his annoyed brother aimed his way.

“Ow! Dammit, Buck, that hurt!.” J.D. scowled at the older man as he rubbed his arm.

“Then stop carrying on like a frog catching flies, kid.” Buck replied as he finally moved to check the bottom of his other boot for any unwanted surprises. Nothing, thank god, he hadn’t been looking forward to having to scrub it clean with hay. Straightening up he had a thought, “Hey, Ez, you must have some idea of the kinds of words the rest of us lowly cowpokes have trouble understanding, how come you ain’t never decided to use different words?”

Smoothly hiding his amusement as he easily guessed the reason behind Buck’s obvious relief after his boot check, Ezra replied, “I imagine that if I had attempted to modify my language without input from others that more than one of our compatriots would have become quite annoyed with me at how I was making assumptions to the level of their intelligence by assuming that they did not know those words in the first place. And as I do not have any official knowledge of their educational levels, they would have been perfectly justified to feel so.”

Seeing Buck blinking in assumed consternation, J.D. decided he ought to translate, “He means our friends are a bunch of old grumpy-grumps that like to complain about anything, so why bother.”

“I know that, J.D., and that’s not…I guess that is kind of what he said.” Buck snickered. “Only he said it a lot nicer. And, kid, in the future, leave the explaining to the master. I can just see you trying to help and getting me all turned about. Grumpy-grumps, J.D.? Really? ”

“Yes, John Daniel, that was the best you could come up with? I am quite disappointed.” Of course, the Southerner’s brief moment of startled laughter at the Easterner’s fairly accurate, if simplistic, description and the obvious twinkle of amusement in his eyes showed that he was really feeling rather the opposite.

“Well, I was going to go with curmudgeons but I don’t think Buck knows that one yet.” J.D. grinned, rocking back on his heels.

“Uh, good choice then.” Buck stated, then moved up to stand next to Ez as they all turned to head out of the stables. “So, what’s that one mean?” 

“Curmudgeon is a noun that means somebody who is irritable or stubborn. They are considered to be bad-tempered and disagreeable. It is most often used when referring to older gentlemen.” Ezra supplied calmly not letting his internal glee at such a perfect word choice reflect upon his face.

“Ha! Oh, man, if that isn’t accurate as all hell. Good choice, kid. I am so calling Larabee that the next time he gets in a mood.”

“Thanks, Buck.” J.D. said grinning with pride.

“It is not an entirely unknown or rare word, so it is likely that Mr. Larabee has some working knowledge of the meaning.” Ezra warned.

“Ha! Even better!” Buck crowed, raising an arm in triumph. “Then he’ll know I’m calling him a grumpy old man.”

“We need to do something about your apparent death wish, my friend,” the gambler said shaking his head then making a quick jerk to the right to avoid the punch headed for his left arm.

Deciding he might need to go slow with getting Ezra used to friendly touches, Buck lets the green-eyed man get away easily and instead reaches his other arm out to smack J.D. on the bicep. “How come you knew that word? Did Ez teach ya?”

“Yup.” J.D. agreed while responding with a slap of his own aimed at Buck’s chest.

Ezra just managed to keep himself from rolling his eyes at their antics. _Maybe Mother was right, I am picking up bad habits from ‘fraternizing with the rabble.’  
_

“Unlike nearly everyone else of our acquaintance,” Ezra began while reaching out to open the door out of the stable for his companions. “Mr. Dunne has had no problem letting me know when I use a word with which he is unaccustomed, and often comes to me with questions regarding the proper pronunciation and usage of that word. He is a quick study, and I find it quite pleasurable to know I am helping to expand his verbal options.” 

“Huh.”

“Don’t worry, Buck,” J.D. said turning to look at his surrogate big brother with wide, honest brown puppy eyes. “I’ll help you remember to ask Ez about all those, many, many, many words you need to learn to grow educated.” 

“Why you -” Buck snarled as he took off after the madly cackling, fleeing young man. 

Ezra ambled after the duo, content to snicker quietly and simply watch as Buck tried whatever tricks he could think of to catch up to his faster prey. It was nice to finally have a return to some normality after dealing with such an emotional situation.


End file.
